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erigold13261 · 1 year

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If B2J or ExJay do end up starting a re-revolution in the FRAU, how does it happen? An unlikely scenario but interesting to think about

Once again I went overboard with the writing so under a read more it goes! Also to note, I accidentally wrote this kinda backwards in how the fights go. It's all over the place but that's what happens when you have a stream-of-conscious style of writing like me.

Also, this goes under the version where a Re-Revolution is successful and not one that ends up failing.

It's not actually all that unlikely! (Also for the most part I am using "Ex-Jay" to talk about the 4 guys, Asa Noa Cyril and Rei, and not the band itself because the band is no longer together at this point).

Ex-Jay (all 4) and West were friends before shit went down between them and NSR. Now Ex-Jay (Asa, Rei, and Cyril) and West hate NSR. Since West's brother was hurt because of NSR, Ex-Jay has even more hatred for NSR now more than ever.

Cyril and West are definitely shit-talking NSR a lot of the time, especially online. That would probably get the notice of Kliff, who comes out of hiding with some bullshit excuse to B2J for why he disappeared. Something like he was too afraid of dying because he knew Neon J and was afraid if he came out to help them the two would have been killed by the maniac cyborg (something all of them would agree could have been a possibility considering how his robots acted).

Well B2J would not be willing, or even really able to, start a re-revolution. However, that wouldn't stop West and Ex-Jay, they would absolutely be willing to follow Kliff's advice to try and stop NSR again (and this time they'd have even more knowledge of the charters as B2J had fought most of them already).

The only thing I am debating on is if Noa joins the other three Ex-Jay members as he is in another band at the time. He doesn't want to abandon either group, but he also fears he will either get hurt if he helps or his friends will get hurt if he doesn't. In the end, I see him being convinced to help join the cause by the band he is in now as they also want to help bring back rock and take down NSR (they'd also honestly want to help liberate robots in Vinyl City who are being oppressed a lot).

As they all head back to Vinyl City I see things going down like this:

Kliff, May, and Zuke stay in the back lines gathering and giving info to the team. There is a new charter in DJ's place and all the other charter's style has changed a bit more, not to mention security is still tight even if it's been a few years since the revolution. So this process of gathering information is absolutely necessary to stop any kind of huge failure like May and Zuke had.

Noa's band would be fighting without Noa as he sticks with West and the rest of Ex-Jay. This group (which I feel is like 5 without Noa, so usually 6) would be the ones keeping back security and other things from Ex-Jay and West as they fight the boss. They will also offer small assistance in the fight against the boss (think of like those upgrades where Ellie gives food/supplies to B2J, except it would probably be more like offensive assists instead of defensive).

Ex-Jay themselves would be in their main roles except for Cyril who can't project his voice anymore or scream at all. Asa would be on bass, Rei on guitar, Noa on drums, and instead of being on vocals Cyril would be on piano (like a holographic one similar to Zuke's drums). West would take the spot of vocals in this scenario along with using his shadow for more defensive measures while Ex-Jay handles the offense.

I don't have any real ideas of how all the fights would go right now, at least the new charter's, Sayu, and Yinu's fights. But I do think by the time the Re-Revolution gets to 1010/Neon J, instead of fighting them before Eve, Eve would force herself into their path to try and stop this stupid revolution herself.

In her head she thinks that if she can stop it then she will be praised by Tatiana while also putting West in his place. She might even get to see Zuke and talk to him. But what ends up happening instead is she gets beat, even after spitting up everyone.

I can see West know the gist of how to deal with Eve from Zuke talking about it, the others struggle to get a grip on reality and even start losing themselves in Eve's mental maze that she creates. Once West is able to get to Eve the two have a fight between her illusionary light and his shadowed darkness.

It is basically a stalemate for a while until Zuke comes and shatters the reality. He had ignored May and Kliff telling him to stay, and had the other band help him get to Eve. There he and West talk to Eve. West taking on more of Mayday's role from the original game, except with a lot more hate in his heart for her, while Zuke tries to reach out to Eve like he did before (maybe with not as much kindness, maybe with more kindness, I don't know yet).

Instead of going into that silent white area that Zuke reached her in, it would be more like a platformer trying to reach Eve on top of a mountain of broken glass and dripping paint, having to climb arms and legs while avoiding the stares and shots from eyes watching. It would be difficult for Zuke to reach her, but with the help of Ex-Jay, West, and the other band, he would finally be able to get her down from her broken throne and make her see that this is not who she is. This is not the Eve that Zuke remembers, or the Eve that she wants to be.

Or something like that. It would be the end of Eve's fight, with her realizing she doesn't need other people to complete her, but also that she has done some shitty things since the last revolution. She is able to look into a mirror and see what she has become, and how she is not happy with it. This would be the moment where she tries to actively make things better for not just herself, but also for people around her. Zuke would tell her that people change, sometimes for better, and sometimes for worse. It's up to you to choose for yourself how you want to change, and to not rely on other people to tell you who you are.

I was going to say I think West would have some kind of thing going on in this part, but I like the idea that Eve is Zuke's final boss. So gonna backtrack a tiny bit to Yinu's boss fight where I think West would have some revelations.

I like the idea that West and Zuke make up before this Re-Revolution takes place, however I still think they have problems. Problems mainly stemming from West trying to be too controlling of Zuke's life for fear of losing him. The same problem that Mama and Yinu have going on right now.

I'm not sure how the fight would play out all that much, but I can see West seeing the pain Yinu is going through because of Mama and somehow seeing Zuke and his relationship reflected between them. Maybe one of Ex-Jay makes a comment to West about it in passing while fighting. As he realizes this, his vocals would change to try and encourage Yinu to speak up while trying to snap Mama out of her blind rage.

What ends up happening is that Yinu and Mama grow stronger separately. Mama becomes even more angry while Yinu grows in confidence at trying to speak up about her situation. She is getting lost in her own thoughts and playing faster to try and keep up with them. This starts to make the fight harder for the rockers, making Ex-Jay try to shut West up and try to make him realize he is boosting their power and making it harder to fight. It seems like Mama and Yinu are about to start over powering the rockers.

Only for the music to stop. Yinu stops playing as Mama hits the ground or something knocking West and Ex-Jay on their asses. Mama tries to tell her to keep playing, but instead of starting back up she says no. She won't. Mama probably starts yelling at Yinu to stop disobeying and asking her if she wants to lose!? Does she want to have these idiots ruin her performance like this!? Does Yinu even care about what her stopping to play means!?

And Yinu tells her yes. She does know what it means. Yes, she does want them to win. Yes. She wants to lose. Yinu doesn't want to do this anymore. She doesn't want to fight. She just wants all of this to stop and for Mama to go back to being her mother, to care for her like she used to, to stop trying to control every second of her life because she is afraid something bad might happen. Mama IS the bad thing in Yinu's life right now, and she can't breathe of live like this anymore. If she has to play one more song, one more note, for a cause she doesn't care for anymore, she is going to break down.

He explains that his mother cares about her, and this is how she shows it. It sucks, sure, and it is love, but it's not right trying to control someone. Yinu is her own person, and she should be able to make her own decisions. And he explains how he had to relearn that with his own brother, who he was treating like Mama was treating Yinu, and how their relationship will never be the same, but that with work it can get better.

Mama listens to all of this. To West and Yinu talk. And she calms down enough to realize she is the reason Yinu looks like she is about to wither away. It wasn't the revolution, it's not puberty, it isn't the music. It's her. She is the one who has made Yinu stress so much that almost all her flowers are gone and her hair is rooted all the time.

And Mama breaks down. She cries for the first time since Papa died and she hugs Yinu and apologizes for everything. The two leave the level/hall, not even caring to stay and make sure things get cleaned up or to answer Tatiana's calls about what is going on. They just leave and go home to try and talk through all their problems. West and Ex-Jay continue onward.

Okay I was gonna jump back to 1010, but I am actually gonna go back further to Sayu's fight. I like to think that the fight with Sayu is supposed to fix the kind dysfunctional aspect of 3 bands working together on a whim while also fixing the Crew's tendency to not work as a team.

However the fight with the new Charter went fine (won't be going into that fight since I have no charter ideas right now) but it was still a bit sloppy and had some problems. Ex-Jay were a bit too aggressive and headstrong, trying to quickly take out the bosses without caring for their own safety. West is trying to match Ex-Jay but the rhythm keeps fucking up and their attacks end up colliding and doing less damage. Not to mention West is more of an offensive attacker while being forced to play defense because of Ex-Jay's fighting style. Then Noe's band don't have a drummer so all of their attacks/assists are also out of rhythm and sometimes they accidentally help the boss (at least all of this is true for the first charter and a majority of Sayu's fight).

Sayu is a lot more defensive in her fight, making it so the surrounding and mods do most of the fighting for her. This is so she isn't seen as a threat by the public, but it also kinda makes her (the Crew) controlling of the environment. At times you can hear Sayu between lyrics say stuff like "No! That was the wrong attack!" or "Stay consistent! You're off beat!"

But it's not always the same "voice" coming out of Sayu, showing that sometimes Remi Sofa or Dodo will yell over Tila to give a command. Or sometimes Sayu (Dodo) will move a piece of the environment to better fit his movement or Tila will give a line like "Now watch this!" and nothing will happen because she wanted Remi to change the design or Dodo to strike a pose and neither knew what she was expecting so neither did something.

It really just becomes a mess of two groups failing to communicate with each other as they fight. Once Sayu starts arguing with "herself" (the Crew's arguments and frustrations are being heard like at the end of the original fight, except it happens earlier) that is when the rockers realize they need to communicate better in order to win.

While Sayu is still fighting with herself and the rockers have a moment to talk, they quickly make a plan with roles on who is doing what and are finally able to work as an actual team. They use this to go back to fighting and start pressuring Sayu again.

Only for Sayu to start fighting back herself. It starts with a fist into the ground as Dodo finally gets sick of arguing and tries to end the fight. Which just causes more in-fighting between the Crew as they are afraid of what the public would think only for Dodo to say something like "we will lose a lot more if we don't win this fight! Now start fighting!"

Tila's singing creates music notes, Remi changes Sayu's model more often to give more advantages to Dodo (even going into special holiday themes that have extra accessories for Dodo to use), and Sofa is moving the environment, cutting of access points, and just making it difficult to do anything.

The two groups are finally working together but the rockers end up coming out on top because they are able to push Sayu back more and more, taking advantage the cracks of dysfunction that appears every so often during the fight and breaking through Sayu's defenses.

In the end I think Sayu wouldn't break like she does at the end of the original fight, but she would break down and start crying as Tila can no longer sing and sobs into the microphone. That stops all the fighting as Tila says out to the public she is so afraid of losing everything, her friends, her job, her life. She is terrified of going back home and she can't do this anymore.

We can hear the other voices come out of Sayu trying to comfort Tila and Sayu's body looks like it is side hugging nothing (Dodo is holding Tila). The stress these teens have gone through finally comes out into the public, along with some implications that their families are not great.

And so the rockers offer to stop fighting and just talk in private, which the Crew allow and they go into Sayu's eye thingy and end up in Sayu's studio. The show is cut so people aren't just looking at a still, unmoving Sayu. And the rockers and Crew talk for a while. Ex-Jay and Noa's band telling them their options and explaining how things in life work. Rei and Remi talking about being trans comes up. Cyril talking about abusive parents and how to get out of situations. West trying to offer a safe place for them to hang out at so they don't have to go back to their parents after all of this.

The fight between the rockers and Sayu is ended, but the Crew's fight for their lives have really just begun.

Okay, finally jumping back to after Eve's fight, it is now time to talk about 1010's fight. They are now the last fight before Tatiana and are NSR's last hope to defend itself from Rock.

1010 don't want and can't fight back. At least not like they were able to last time with finger guns, Bio Tactical Shields, and rocket flight. I don't even think Neon J has a flying factory anymore, I doubt they would allow him to have access/the ability to create a giant robot army considering the public's perception of robots.

So instead of fighting 1010 first, you are fighting Neon first. Neon and DJSS who surprises everyone by showing up to help Neon. This whole fight takes place on an elevated stage so that you can't directly hit any of these enemies (think like DJ and Sayu's fight where you need projectiles and parries to fight properly).

DJSS acts more as a shield for 1010 and Neon, kinda like how Mama protected Yinu, while Neon is shooting charged up energy beams from a gun/blaster he has and commanding machinery to attack, confuse, and separate the rockers. Things like fog machines, confetti canons, beams of blinding light, those actual canons that shoot the parriable beam in the parry only fight. Not to mention the high security that is keeping Noa's band away from the fight.

It is just Ex-Jay and West against 1010, Neon and DJSS. 1010 aren't really fighting back, sometimes they will sing out and notes go flying at the rockers, but for the most part this is an actual battle, not some kind of show (there is still music playing, but it is a weird remix of DJ and 1010's music which add in rock as the battle continues).

Anyway, I see it as a fight to try and break the stage that 1010 are on. You have to get past Neon and DJ. Neon commanding certain attacks which are hard to dodge but easy to see coming, and DJ slamming the ground or shooting a sun beam which is hard to see coming but fairly easy enough to dodge.

Depending on who goes down first changes the dynamic of the fight. At first it is mainly just Neon and DJ taking turns attacking while 1010 will occasionally sing.

If DJ is taken out first (cracking his helmet more) then Neon's attack become faster and more sporadic, but 1010 are easier to hit without DJ. However, Neon will stand in the way of most of the shots to body block for 1010. Some shots do still get through and damage 1010. You need to get Neon out of the way before finally getting to 1010.

Once you defeat Neon he will send out one last attack before collapsing which only Cyril and West dodges. The other rockers are knocked away.

If Neon goes down first then DJ will catch Neon and fully protect him and 1010 with one arm. There is no way to damage 1010 or Neon during this phase, but DJ's attacks are slower though more powerful as their anger grows. They leave their head open to attacks though.

Once you crack open DJ's head again, he does one last sweeping motion that Cyril and West dodge while the other rockers get knocked away. Then DJ leaves as he doesn't want his black hole to harm 1010 or Neon.

There has not been a lot of talking that went on between the two sides by this point, maybe some quick banter or insults thrown out from each side, but nothing major. Now that it is only 1010, Cyril, and West though, they start to talk.

White asks why they are doing this, what their problem is with them and EDM. He tells them to just suck it up and deal with life, that this kind of tantrum they are showing is stupid and won't change anything. Life sucks and they should get over themselves.

Each time an attack is thrown at 1010, White hits it away, usually to another 1010 but sometimes just away where it will hit the ropes/wires holding the stage up. Each hit does do damage to White, but it's just the arms that are losing their casing and exposing the internal workings.

Well as West and Cyril continue to attack and listen to White, they end up explaining all the pain that NSR has done. All the suffering people have gone through. How specifically these two were hurt by 1010's actions and their lives were ruined.

And that is when White recognizes them as the people Blue attacked long before the revolution started. White tells the rockers that they are stupid for thinking that they have a problem with them, when in reality they have a problem with Blue. And so White grabs Blue by the collar, drags him to the edge of the stage as Blue begs him to stop and the rest of 1010 tell White to knock it off, and throws him off the stage onto the ground in front of West and Cyril.

White tells them to go ahead and kill him if they wanted revenge so badly, all while the rest of 1010 were shocked and afraid, and Blue is already pretty badly damaged by the fall and White redirecting attacks.

Blue just quietly apologizes over and over for everything he did and how sorry he is that things ended up this way. Apologizing to White, to Neon, to West and Cyril. He was just so afraid to lose his family that he did what he thought was right and obviously he was wrong.

West and Cyril are too shocked to do anything at first. Cyril breaks the silence by asking White what the fuck was wrong with him and how he could just throw Blue down like that. Only for White to grab Red and throw him down saying "Easy, like this." He goes on to explain how they don't matter. They are just robots, tools for NSR to use. 1010 is already dead as far as he is concerned.

White continues to throw down Yellow and Green, breaking them a lot too. West calls him sadistic and messed up for betraying 1010. White explains he isn't sadistic, only that he has accepted that no matter who wins this fight, Tatiana is going to scrap them as 1010 is no longer useful to NSR.

He explains some things that have happened behind the scenes that no one knows about. How Tatiana killed Purple, how the other artists became abusive or messed up, how 1010 are basically trapped working for NSR and will never be let go to live normally.

"NSR is dying and 1010 is going to die with it! Why can't you idiot rockers just let us die in piece!?" He screams as he slams his foot onto the stage only for it to finally shatter/break and he falls down in front of West and Cyril, just as broken as the rest of 1010.

Cyril is the one to reach out to 1010 and try to help them up. He no longer feels the rage inside of him to hurt 1010 because now he sees how much they have been fucked up in their situation. He feels sorry for them. He tells them to keep fighting and don't give up. If they beat Tatiana then he'll make sure they are able to get away from NSR.

He then tells them that if this works, then to move to his country where robots are accepted and that maybe 1010 and Ex-Jay can start over, without musical politics getting in the way. Keep fighting for a brighter tomorrow, not for the world but for yourself.

After the 1010 fight, and a small recuperation, the rockers head to Tatiana.

Tatiana is not playing around or trying to reason with the rockers. This can be seen right as West and Ex-Jay pass through her office door just as she uses her time powers to shut and lock the door, cutting off Noa's band from the rest of them. She then knocks Ex-Jay and West onto the ground with a sweeping fist and walks to the center of the stage.

Here she starts to tell them how pathetic their sacrifice will seem once they are defeated. She summons her first clock hand and turns to them, where she explains that if they think Bunk Bed Junction were hurt, just wait until she is done with them.

She teleports quickly and the only reason she didn't immediately kill one of them is because Rei was able to use his guitar to block her sword. This give enough time for the rest of the group to get up and spread out. They start attacking Tatiana as best as they can.

Rei and Asa are the physical hitters with their guitars while Cyril and Noa send music notes at her with their piano and drums. West is trying to use his shadows to stop or slow her down long enough to actually be hit but her flames keep destroying his shadow so all he can do is try to use it to block her physical attacks, everyone has try try and dodge the fireballs.

Considering it is 5v1, Tatiana does surprisingly well. She doesn't play games or mess around. Quickly breaking some strings and keys off of instruments as she attacks causing the rockers' attacks to weaken as they lose essential parts of their music.

Tatiana is able to knock out a few of the rockers, only not killing them because of West's shadow taking the sharpness of the blade but the blunt force trauma still hits Noa and Asa. Rei is on the ropes while West is getting tired and weak. The only one who seems to be faring okay in the fight is Cyril, and that is not saying much because Tatiana's has kinda been ignoring him.

To Tatiana, he isn't special. His piano skills are subpar compared to the rest of the bands' musical talents. He is small and can barely talk half the time. She is just getting rid of the more dangerous threats before she moves onto attacking him.

Cyril is doing all he can to keep playing and keep fighting Tatiana even as he sees his friends get knocked out and hurt by her. He realizes she is ignoring him and so he tries to quickly run to the door to unlock it and get the rest of the rockers into the level only for Tatiana to teleport behind him and hit him full force back into the center of the stage.

It is just Cyril and Tatiana now as she knocked out Rei and West when Cyril ran. He is on the ground below her as she is about to throw the last hit against him.

And he teleports himself out of the way. Something he has not been able to do since Blue destroyed his pocket watch years ago. Both of them are shocked by this. Cyril realizes the clock below the floor is allowing him to tap back into his time powers, and so he sets up his holo keyboard again and starts attacking Tatiana while also dodging her own attacks.

As Cyril and Tatiana fight, B2J and the rest of the band are able to break through the doors. The other band is able to get the knocked out rockers into the hallway while Zuke and Mayday take Rei and Asa's guitars and get ready to fight with Cyril. Only for them to see the glowing crown and decided to attack that.

Tatiana finally realizes the others are here and tries her best to attack them instead of Cyril, but he is making it difficult for her to hit them, literally grabbing at her and teleporting her away from them when he can, exhausting his powers.

The three fight together, mainly Cyril damaging Tatiana and protecting B2J while B2J dodge and attack the crown. Mayday and Tatiana have their banter similar to the original end game. Cyril adds on how rock may not save the city from blackouts, but it's going to save the city from NSR.

As they overpower Tatiana thanks to Cyril's powers and playing, they end up defeating her and blowing up the Crown where Kul Fyra's guitar is.

Similar end scene where Mayday says Kul Fyra was her idol, with Cyril also saying that is why he started rock in the first place. Tatiana telling them to basically shut up and having idols was for fools.

I don't know if the power is much of a thought in the re-revolution, probably not to Cyril, but May still does the whole "rock is better than EDM power-wise" only to find out it is the same energy output as EDM (like 45% since the music they played was more fueled by revenge than passion, and the EDM being played recently has faltered in passion).

For the actual end I don't know if Kliff still does the satellite hack. It's been years so the satellite would not be on his mind. He would definitely say that Cyril and B2J are now the royalty of Vinyl City, the new NSR baby!

B2J would reject that title because they don't feel like they could actually run NSR. Cyril knows he would be able to with Ex-Jay by his side, but he is silent for a moment. Only to say that Kliff used them, about how this was never about power or helping the rest of them get closure! It was about Kliff trying to get to Tatiana!

Cyril would end up feeling stupid and yelling at Kliff. That this whole situation is his fault. Leading May and Zuke to also realize that if Kliff never pushed them so much, they might not have gotten injured so badly.

At this point in the story I don't actually have any ideas. Kliff would do something that would cause the Rockers to help NSR, probably the satellite but maybe something else. Really it would just be the Rockers wanting to help the Megastars more than help Tatiana, because people like 1010, Yinu, and Sayu didn't deserve what they went through. Neon, Eve, DJ, and Mama all deserve second chances to become the better people that they showed they could be.

So the rockers help save NSR, restoring the power to NSR but also bringing the outside change needed to finally break down the toxic environment that has been leaching out of NSR for years.

New Megastars are brought on while old ones retire or take temporary leaves of absences. Tatiana shares her power more openly with Mystery Man and possibly another CEO brought on so that there is a checks-and-balance system now in NSR. Musical freedom is finally allowed to flourish along with blackouts being only a very rare thing that happens.

NSR will never be the same again, but that's for the better.

#nsr #no straight roads #nsr au #failed revolution #eritalks #eriau #noart #asks #i am so sorry this is so long!#i got really into the writing of this piece!#it became so self indulgent!#especially the 1/010 part!#i love this au so much!#wish i knew how to properly write #this would have been so much better #oh well!#i had a LOT of fun!

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imviotrash · 1 month

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I honestly think that Joanne had it the worst (psychologically) during the midnight tea party.

Imagine being bullied and isolated for a year, because someone fabricated an entire web of lies about you due to you getting a tiny bit of positive attention. The truth about the situation finally comes to light, you get your (very demanding) dream job, are well liked among your peers and are finally included within the schools society.

And then within one night you:

-discover your comfort teacher and your first friend are not real and are actually private investigators

-find out your boss who is supposed to be your role model and protector is a murderer

-realize that the principal has been on vacation for a year and was replaced by THE FUCKING GRIM REAPER

-learn that the vice principal is DEAD (and was subjected to human experimentation)

-learn that you're the second replacement for a guy who got brutally murdered and ALSO subjected to human experimentation (which you are witnessing right Infront of your eyes in real time)

-literally hear why and how these humans have been experimented on

-see how someone gets turned into dinner

-almost get turned into dinner yourself and can't escape on time because your body shut down out of shock.

-see how your "friend" is hunted for sport by the grim reaper.

-also see your "comfort teacher" crush someone's head right Infront of you.

-become unconscious out of shock.

-loose not only your boss, two friends (Soma and Ciel )and comfort teacher after this whole fiasco, but also your entire network of coworkers because they got a promotion you're too young to have.

-on top of that YOU CANNOT talk about what happened to you to anyone because you were sworn to secrecy and you can't really talk about it privately to your former colleagues either, since they're now a completely different rank than you.

Like- the guy didn't get physically injured, but he was the only real student to witness the entire Midnight tea party, because he couldn't escape on time. (And let's also not forget that he's the youngest of the real students present at the party and definitely the most sensitive one).

Since the Midnight tea party will happen again, Joanne and his former coworkers are probably forced to attend again since they can't really publicly share the reason as to why they don't want to go.

#when your comfort character didn't have a day of comfort in his life #i love how Joanne was supposed to be a oneshot character but the editors ended up liking him so much that he became a regular character #but instead of treating him like a normal character they just decide to make the worst things happen to him #He needs to be rescued from this manga #im looking WAAAAAY too deep into this but its been on my mind for a while #this is definitely me pretending that this character is of more relevance than he actually is #definitely very self indulgent post #but I honestly think he deserves more in depth writing!#especially since hes interested in philosophy and witnessed the extremes of his schools code of ethics #kuroshitsuji #black butler #kuroshitsuji season 4 #vio speaks #joanne harcourt #kuroshitsuji spoilers

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violetscanfly · 4 months

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It's been a while huh? How about a long ass trolls au post? Would that be anything?

Ok but seriously I'm obsessed with them and wrecked my sleep schedule for two nights in a row because I was having so much fun drawing them. I haven't seen any crossovers yet and I have many thoughts about how the mdzs/trolls lore works.

I was thinking about making each clan a different type of troll (the lans would fit classical so well etc but I wasn't really into the cupid aesthetic lmao) but the point of this at the beginning was just to get rid of major art block by drawing cute trolls so I just did whatever :'D

The gist of it is Wei Wuxian is a rock troll adopted into the pop troll society by the jiangs and in his yiling laozu era he fully leans into the rock side of himself that he used to suppress to fit in. I had to make Chenqing into an electric guitar, obviously, (rip wangxian duet) and he uses it to control rock zombies. As usual he gets resurrected by Mo Xuanyu (Did he die by being eaten? Maybe.) and his final form reflects both his love for pop while embracing his rock side as well. Also yes, the Jin trolls are yellow, so.

Since the Lan clan are not really classical trolls I thought they're instead more of the love ballad type of pop, (fits the lans only love once thing too!) so, very sentimental. Which makes Lan Wangji stand out by being cold and seemingly closed off while he's secretly composing love songs for Wei Wuxian. Design-wise I felt the lans would wear more layers and keep their hair tied but I wanted to differentiate the style from Wei Wuxian's ponytail so it's either a half tied up (down? since troll hair goes up??) or a bun. I thought it was funny to give Lan Wangji a huge hairpiece to keep the high hair thing going even when it's tied. Also it kinda marks his age, the taller it is the older he is. Maybe it's a status symbol as well.

I didn't really put too much though into A-Yuan since I just randomly decided to add him cause baby trolls are adorable but basically just Wen colours and the pigtails are homage to manhua A-Yuan whom I love.

Overall I tried to mix design elements from both ips and I really like how they turned out. I think that's all for now. :'D

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milky-aeons · 4 months

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𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

౨ৎ . . . he's always been cocky. It was that self-righteous bravado JEAN KIRSCHTEIN had which drew you towards him in the first place, like a moth to flame, too curious to look away. It was your own damn fault for getting burned.

warnings: swearing, sexual content, emotional dysregulation, reader is bad at feelings, Jean is no better, enemies to lovers, mdni, w.c 3.9k

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, at first.

A mindless curiosity. If you were being honest, what really piqued your initial interest in Jean Kirschtein was that ridiculous way he wore his hair.

At least, that was what you liked to tell yourself. On those nights where his golden eyes wouldn't leave your mind while you tossed and turned. Feeling your body heat, your skin stretching too taut across your bones, aching.

It had morphed into something more mind consuming, more tangible, at a speed and stealth you couldn't keep up with. You were always a woman who liked to have a decent reign on her emotions. In a world like this, where you had all been thrown into war and shattered beyond repair, it took only the strong to pick themselves back up and keep going. For so long, that had been your only objective. To keep moving. To never stop, to make it to the other side.

And here you were. The Rumbling had decimated over eighty-percent of the world's population, was the number plastered across every newspaper in Eldia. You had made it. There was no reason to push it all away now in favour of those survival instincts. And in its wake, all your thoughts left untouched, those feelings left unfelt, came roaring up to the surface with a one sure goal of swallowing you whole.

You were going insane.

The first time you had saw him since the War broke out, you almost did not recognise him. Standing there at a newspaper stall at such towering height. He rose above any other male around him.

When you were teenagers, you used to delight in the blush that raced across his cheeks when you teased him about his silly undercut, how it reminded you of the mane of a horse. He would splutter, like a wounded thing, and shout at you in a high, offended voice. You would laugh, and laugh, until his tanned skin coloured the same shade as the roses you collected in your basket.

Back then, you were just an ordinary towns girl, making fun of a trainee soldier because you thought them all the same. Stuck up, boorish, common things for a youth to entertain. You never knew about the frequent encounters you would soon find yourself with the soldier who graduated in the 104th's Top Ten. Who, despite everything he boasted, joined ranks with the Survey Corps and ventured where you could only hope to dream. Who would bump into you on quiet, serene nights as you returned from the flower fields, and offer you a suave smile.

"Never thought I'd see you again. You're still goin' round with those flowers in your basket, huh?"

"Indeed, I am. Would you like me to fashion you a flower crown? It would do well to hide that ridiculous haircut you seem to still wear."

The boat rocked against the lull of the waves. Your vase skidded across the wooden worktop, and you gasped, holding it in place.

You had become distracted, again.

Being one of the best florists within all three walls, and after taking up the family business as your father's prodigy, you were not surprised when a group of militants showed up at your studio a few days hence. Informing you of a campaign to visit the nation of Marley, and that your services would be of great use. Many ceremonies, they had said, a great many. We could use a florist's touch such as you.

And that was the day you saw him again. At the newspaper stand. His hair was longer, his eyes sharp and always cunning. From your workroom here on the boat destined for Marley, you were certain the smooth baritone of his voice had become one with the walls at this point, you seemed so fixated on it.

Insane. That man was driving you insane.

Huffing, you picked up a smooth satin ribbon from your sewing box and fashioned it around the bouquet you had taken longer than usual to put together. The first of many you had been asked to create for a cordial tea that was scheduled for when you first arrived there. Bittersweet, for truth, Calla Lily, to show justice, sharp pops of colour from Gladioli, for strength of their new nations. You sat back in your chair and regarded the arrangement.

It was the need to speak to the Commander about the debrief of events that sent you standing from your chair and meandering down the ships hallways in search of your company. It was not because the soft tongues of pollen from the lilies were just the same shade as his watchful, watchful eyes.

"Excuse me," You spoke after knocking on the door of the main cabin. Armin Arlert's cordial tone beckoned you inside.

All of the main players of Paradis' military were gathered around a small tea service; the Commander and his partner, Annie Leonhart, along with the strong presence of Reiner Braun, sitting at the round table. Armin smiled warmly at you when you introduced yourself into the room with a small bow.

He, was furiously fixing his long hair in the reflection of a wall mirror in the corner of your vision. You refused to look his way. Out of sheer stubbornness, you would not. To prove something to yourself, you would aptly ignore the soldier.

Yet you did notice how his comb suddenly froze in mid air when you entered the room.

"Miss [Name]," Armin greeted. "Can we help you with anything? Is everything to your liking?"

"Everything is just perfect, Commander." You said, smiling warmly. "I have come to tell you that I... have been within two minds about what flowers I should use for our opening ceremony. Would strength imply hostility to the already wounded Marley nation, if I were to use Galdioli?"

Armin tilted his head to the side, his golden hair sliding across his forehead. "Hm. No, I think it's good to be a bit bold, actually. I'll trust your judgement on it, [Name]."

You were surprised that you had asked such a convincing question, after coming to the cabin on a shaky basis. Feeling his eyes on you through the mirror, your cheeks pulled into a tight smile, and you were just about to thank the Commander, when—

"All this talk about flower crap, what ones to use, what ones to stick in your hair," Jean Kirschtein's voice piqued up, and you roiled at the way it slinked across your skin, how it called all your senses to high alert. He chuckled in a smooth timbre. "Really, [Name], you haven't changed a bit."

Stiffly, you slowly turned your posture until you could fully face the soldier in the corner of the room. He had gone back to his task of combing those auburn locks to sit neatly swept, his eyes not looking at you.

Connie Springer, who had previously been leaning out of the cabin window, turned to his comrade with an accusing face. "Says the guy who's been fixin' his damn hair the last hour. What are you even doin' that for, huh?"

In his reflection, you saw how Jean's lips stretched into a cheeky, heart-breaking smirk. It made the flutter of your pulse hum erratically, made every sharp remark you wanted to throw at him bottom out from your mind.

"Because," Jean boasted. "I gotta look good for all the Marley ladies we're gonna bump into, don't I?"

And just like that, your heartbeat stilled in your chest.

It hadn't occurred to you until then, how acutely tangible that feeling inside you had become for the golden-eyed soldier. When it had made that shift from curiously interested to all-encompassing, ravaging, when it had become a need of yours to have him in every way you could. And standing there in the doorway of that small cabin, on that boat destined for Marley, you had felt the weight drop deep against your shoulders.

You were in love with Jean Kirschtein.

It was a barrage of emotions, one coming in torrents after the other. Shock. Longing. A foolish, giddy elation. And then; anger. Brewing, boiling, furious anger.

You were in love with Jean Kirschtein.

"Miss [Name]?" Armin called you softly, his tone edged with concern. You blinked, coming back into the room, only to realise that every pair of eyes were gazing at you curiously. "Are you feeling okay?" He ebbed.

An impressive reign on your emotions you had, indeed. But these emotions were never there before — and you had realised that, all this time, this is what had been trying to rise up and swallow you down. Yet anger, you were familiar with anger, you could shield yourself with that and use it to escape, just like you have always done.

"Yes—Yes, I am quite alright," You smiled, but it was razor-sharp. Then, directing it at him, the man of all your desires, you said, "I have heard there are some interesting technologies in Marley, Kirschtein. One of them namely being the light camera. Perhaps, you should ask them to take a photo of your face, so you can stare at it as much as you want."

Jean's honey eyes went wide. Connie coughed, which turned into a deep throng of laughter that had him falling from the window and into a chair. Perhaps his comrades had joined in on the chortling too, but you did not stay long enough to find out. The moment the sharp words left your tongue, you had whirled around, shutting the cabin door behind you.

The scent of the Calla Lilies were sweet and cloying, and even as you cradled your face in your shielding hands, their pollen still found a way to reach you. Dizzying, half-maddening, just like your thoughts as they spun without mercy in your mind.

You loosed a breath and leaned up so your hands, still clasped, pressed against your mouth. You could feel each pound of your heart, as if it were a hummingbird trapped in its cage within your chest. Any moment now, you were sure it would burst free and fly far, far away. You wished it would. In fact, you wished you yourself could just burst into a thousand little pieces and soar through the cabin window and be scattered within the waves if it meant you did not have to feel like this.

Hot. Angry. Yet scared, upset, mortified at yourself and how you had exploded at him. He—Jean, he did not deserve such remarks. He did not deserve how you had taken your insecurities and made them into swords to fling back at him. Of course, you knew this, and that rational tender part of you wished to corner him in some private area of the ship and apologise. Another part warred with that thought, wishing to grab him by the lapels of his brown suit and shake him back and forth, screaming, furious that he was eliciting such feelings from you.

And yet, a smaller side of you, a dangerous, heated area of your heart also wanted to grab hold of his lapels, but only to rip and rend them from his body. Exposing his smooth, strong flesh that he held himself so proudly with underneath—

You stood up with the intention to pace around your room until you could will yourself to calm down.

That was when you heard the thundering footsteps outside.

They were quick. They were determined, rapping against the wooden floorboards that connected all corners of the ship. Startled, you felt every inch of you still, your senses on sudden high alert. They were close by. Were they coming from—?

The door to your work room suddenly flew open, the force of it strong enough to crack the door against the wall as it did so. And there he stood on the other side of it in all his maddening glory, his large hand outstretched from where he had impacted, his shoulders moving up and down with effort. Before you could even protest, Jean had invited himself into your quarters and slammed the door behind him.

His eyes, wild and stern, found you and locked you in place. Rudely, he jutted his finger in your direction and spat, "Just what the hell is your problem, huh?"

So taken aback at the sudden intrusion of the man you had just been agonising over now standing here, panting and furious in your bedroom — it had taken a second for your mind to really catch up. But when it did, your first reaction was obvious defence, causing you to straighten your spine and gawk at him.

"I beg your—!"

"Oh, don't fuck with me, [Name]. I think it's time we sat down and had this damn conversation." Jean snarled, the muscles in his cheek jumping as he spoke. "Ever since we were kids, you've had this weird hate against me, and I've never understood why. The hell have I ever done to you, hah?"

Heat was quick to rise up the column of your exposed neck and onto your cheeks. He was angry, you could see it in the way his eyes blazed, his broad shoulders bunched and tight. You mirrored him, your eyebrows knotting at what he had just said.

Hate him?

"Don't be dramatic, Kirschtein. I've never—!"

"Oh yeah?" He goaded, his expression mocking. "Bullshit. What was that back there, then? Or yesterday? Or at the newspaper stall before we left? Is that your weird sycophant way of being nice, or are we just living in a backwards world all of a sudden and I didn't get the memo?"

"We've always mocked each other, that doesn't mean I hate you—!"

"Well you damn well make it believable, sweetheart—"

"Will you please, just, calm down for a moment—"

"And you've been more prickly than usual, these days! Getting all riled up over things you usually don't, hell—you won't even fuckin' look at me anymore!"

"Well—that—that—!"

"If I've fucking done somethin' to ya, have a damn back bone and say it to me!"

"Jean—"

"And another thing—!"

"For the love of the Walls, it is because I am in love with you, you foolish man!"

The silence that cut into your argument was so deafening, you could almost hear it ringing in your ears.

Whatever angry words were about to leave Jean's open mouth died on his tongue. It almost looked as if they had been forced right back down his throat, he looked so strangled for air.

None of you dared say a thing. The only sounds that existed within the room was the echo of your laboured, angry breaths, mingling with the sudden inhale of air he took that expanded his chest. He moved his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. His dark brows knitted together. He opened his mouth again.

"What... did you just say?"

It was like a bucket of water had been decanted over your head, shocking you into realising what had passed from your lips. You stood there, dumbfounded, exposed, watching the emotions play across his face. The anger melting into shock, which bled into a distortedly humorous confusion.

He took a step forward, and asked again, "Oi, what was that last thing... you just said?"

"Nothing." You bared your teeth at him. "I said nothing. Get out."

He was eating up the small distance that existed between you two until he reduced it to that of a few steps. On his face there was an expression you couldn't decipher, could not sift through the emotions which held it together. Perhaps the uncertainty of it was what sent you retreating until your back hit the far wall of your bedroom. Perhaps it was the shattering of your defences, your walls you kept up so effortlessly, that fuelled the glare you threw his way when you craned up to see him.

When you saw something simmering in the eyes that haunted you in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, you thought — perhaps it was the realisation between the two of you, that the shift from fun to tangible had taken place long, long ago.

"Leave, Kirschtein." You whispered, but it came out hollow, broken.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning down so you shared breath. "Do you want me to?"

Every aspect of him invaded your senses, made it so frustratingly hard to think, to breathe. With him so close, barely millimetres from brushing your nose with his own as he levelled your faces, you could see the smatter of freckles on his high cheekbones. Could breathe in his scent of musk and sea breeze, quickening your breaths, your pulse. Your fingers clawed into the wood behind, restraining yourself from reaching out to him. Because you were afraid that if you did touch him, that you would never be able to stop.

He shifted to press his hand to the side of your head.

"Do you," Jean murmured, whispering so as only you could hear. "Want me to leave, [Name]?"

Instinct was roaring at you to press into him, crying for a release to an ache deep within your belly that curled low and heady.

Insane. He had already drove you insane.

"Damn you, Kirschtein." You hissed, before reaching up to fist your hands into his stupidly fixed hair and crashing your lips with his.

There was a moment of surprise on his part, as if he wasn't expecting you to be so bold. His lips remained frozen underneath your own, unyielding, a perfect statue of human discomposure. Jean, however, was a never a man who was slow to adapt to any situation, give it in the midst of battle or when the woman he has been pining after for years — who, he was convinced, hated his guts — had decided to smash their lips together.

And this sound escaped from the soldier. Akin to that of a wounded animal, a tortured soul, it rumbled down your throat and you swallowed it greedily. Jean's hand flew to cradle the side of your face, pushing back against your kiss, his fingers steepling into your hair and craning your neck back. Your shared kiss started off as something chaste and unsure — releasing each other before coming back for longer, scared to stop for too long lest they woke up and realised it was all a dream.

Jean grew impatient, he grew desperate for you. In one movement he had snaked his hand behind the small of your back and hoisted you against him — almost short-circuiting at the feel of your body pressed so close, like he had thought about so damn frequently. Every time you passed him, every time he watched the strong swish of your hips as you walked through the market on a sunny afternoon. He'd bite his lip, he'd put his fist in his mouth, anything to distract himself.

But this — right here, right now. This couldn't be real.

And yet, he wanted more. He needed more, he needed you.

A moan tore up your throat when he tilted your head just right to deepen the kiss, his large hand fitting to the back of your neck. You felt his tongue explore your mouth, eager and willing, so ravaged at tasting every part of you. It occured to you that you needed his tongue on other areas of your body. Between your breasts, your thighs, you needed to fist your hand in his hair and tell him where to go.

You let out a small shriek when he suddenly hooked two hands underneath your thighs and hoisted you up against the cabin wall.

The ship rocked as you clawed at one another, unravelling folds of clothing and facets of bravado until you were just two souls, two humans, who had survived it all and were allowed to live, without fearing that tomorrow could be the last. He had fisted the ribbons of your working dress in his hands and ripped them in one pull. You gasped when the air slid across your smooth skin, now exposed, hidden behind nothing but a camisole that peaked where your taut nipples were.

Suddenly, Jean paused. He stared at you as if he were seeing you again for the very first time.

"Fuck," He gasped, holding you tighter, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your sensitive thighs. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm—do you—?"

You grabbed the knot of his tie and pulled him back into you, kissing him with a wild, chaotic passion that caused him to unfold underneath your fingertips.

It was in that chaos that he held you up fluidly to his body and walked you over so he could splay you against the work table — where the lilies and gladioli and bittersweets lay. He had shoved them somewhere off to the side, muttering something about stupid damn flowers and how they were always in his way.

And you had laughed. In that way which Jean secretly adored, as it upturned your eyes and made them crease at the sides. Like little curving moons in the night sky.

He shucked off his suit pants in a flurry of clumsy movements, palming at your breasts hungrily as he did so. You were driving him half mad with how good you looked, you smelled — fresh daisies and honey, intoxicating him, making his head spin. He splayed his entire hand onto your stomach and asked;

"You sure?"

Something broke inside of you at his vulnerable expression, always the gentleman. You sucked you lip between your teeth and nodded your head, adding, "I believe I will go insane if I cannot have you."

"Well, that makes fuckin' two of us."

The first stroke of him inside you was incomprehensible.

The second ignited your nerve endings and made you bow up and off of the desk, pulling you taut like a bow string and releasing you when he pulled back. There was something harmonious in the ryhtmn you two found, Jean keeping a hand on your stomach while he pushed into you hard and fast. At one moment, he lifted your leg underneath the knee and spread you wider, groaning ferociously as he buried to the hilt.

He kept going until he had fractured your universe. Until the little spots in your vision were like constellations. He was placing tender kisses along your body when you came back down to him, so raptured by pleasure it was hard to move. You could feel the pulse of him still inside you and he too, rode his release.

He swept your hair from your shining forehead and placed a long, lingering kiss.

"I said," You panted, leaning up to nip at his bottom lip. Oh, but you will have him again, and again, and again, until you made no use of your legs and the boat docked on Marley. Perhaps you would not even leave this room. Perhaps they would have no flowers for their ceremonies, after all. "That I dislike your hair even more that way, I'll have you know."

Jean's honey coloured eyes — dazed with pleasure — flickered to you when you said those words. Then, he chuckled, and you felt it vibrate against your chest and deep within your heart — where he had been, all this time.

He leaned down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck and said, "I love you too, idiot."

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein x reader #this was is so self indulgent ehe #also??? sat down to write like 900 words holy shit #this became a whole passion project #jean kirsten x reader #jean kirstein x reader #🪄— milky writes #divider by fireflygraphics!#‼️ — spoilers #💓 — thump

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quotidianish · 1 year

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Might write a fic with this. Two god awful kids who never got therapy ever for their anger issues. One’s been in Piqua Ohio since forever other just got here. They end up ultimately in the same place (fighting for red and blu) but get there differently

#Completely self indulgent au + low effort post (crying #tf2 #both of them are used to people being scared of them so they beat #others to it by acting that way #people hating them is easier than people being afraid of them I guess #that’s how they became eachother’s first real friends . Or something #art #tf2 au #quotidianish #boots n bombs #tf2 demoman #tf2 soldier

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paepaerest · 2 months

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I'm crazy about your sketches! your technique and coloring are very interesting and so catchy... oh I love it 🖤

Billy Quizboy and Pete White!! I noticed that you like this couple (lol, why not?)) I would really like to see your art with these guys!

//p.s. I like the way your draws women! also Jared and Warden are so charming :3

HIIIIIIIIIII OSTICK it is so nice hearing from u again and im so happy you enjoy my works!!!, and YES I have drawn Petebilly but just did not have the balls to post them on here before (they r my everything...)

#billy quizboy #pete white #petebilly #the last drawing became a hit on twt and i was BOGGLED. i cant believe there are more petebillians still around in 2024 #so sad i got into the fandom late but at the same time i wouldn't be elligible to watch it cause i was too busy playing Animal Jam #i love these two dorks so bad #self indulgence ftw #im still learning to draw them better that is my only hope in life...#paepaerest art #paepaers art

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verdemoth · 10 months

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i got invited into @skies-seas space headworld a while back and offered my beloved immortal space captain from spore 2008. and then it took me several months to finalize a design for them/their species

Captain Sondetten was once just a guy, but is now a spaceship puppeting around a clone of their old body. This is because they made the mistake of captaining the first expedition beyond their home star, and the first to encounter sapient alien life. Now they are not a person to the empire, they’re a living symbol progress and expansion and conquest and they can’t be allowed to die. So when they did, solutions were found. [more under readmore]

Several centuries later, Sondetten is still kicking. The same mind, more or less. They’ve accumulated so many memories that after a certain point, it was easier to transfer their mind into servers aboard their ship. Easier for the empire to maintain digital backups for when the ship is destroyed and needs to be rebuilt. Easier to filter out extraneous data that would only take up valuable space.

Son’s none too thrilled with their lot in life. Everything they do has political consequences that can make or break an alliance. Despite their influence they can’t do anything to change their situation. They don’t recognize the world they were born on. They can’t remember the names or faces of their countless dead friends. They’ve mostly stopped making friends, as no one else can understand fully what they’ve experienced. They’re a ghost haunting their own ship, which is more their true self now than the flesh they wear for the sake of being presentable.

In this shared setting, Son finally snapped and went rogue. They broke into a memory bank to hastily download a big file of that old ‘extraneous data’ (not a clean install, it’s not totally coherent or chronological but they’re glad to have the chance to invite old ghosts back in), then they made their exit and wrecked some shit on the way out, vanishing off to the other side of the galaxy. Son may have been a pacifist once but they’ve long since grown desensitized to violence.

There’s nothing stopping the empire from making another Sondetten, and becoming even more selective with what memories are returned to them to prevent this from happening again. But that’s a problem for that Sondetten, not this one. This Sondetten finally got away, and is for the first time in a long time somewhat mortal. They can make another body clone given enough time if the current one is killed, but if their ship is destroyed there will be no one to rebuild it and restore these memories. This Son will end if the ship dies, which is a novel experience.

In the meantime they’re trying to figure out how life works now in a place where they’re not being strangled by their own legacy. They arrive into the plot as just the ship with severe hull damage and some very atypical technology. They find themself put up as a grand prize to be won in some competition, which is not exactly what they were hoping for. They decide to play along for a time in hopes of getting free repairs, and only reveal themself as a sapient being when some folks try snooping into their memory servers or cloning process.

~ Anyway i made this species in spore in like 2012 or something? they were one of my main playthroughs and Sondetten is my go to when i’m playing the space stage :]

the original Maaydes + Sondie in game

i’ve been trying to draw/design the species but it took me sooooooo long to settle on what i wanted! the initial concept was marsupial + bird but it evolved past that. there’s plenty of thylacine in the jaw range of motion & general posture/body anatomy, but also some rodent proportions and upright posture. head cones from great crested grebe and austroraptor. wing anatomy and proportions are pterosaur, a single long digit supporting a membrane. with a wing covering of moth like scales. also a bit of pangolin but it’s more obvious on some subspecies than on Sond here

the idea is that the predecessors of this species had some kind of fur like covering, which over time changed into fused structures somewhere between a scale and a feather? they’re primarily equipped for insulation and ornamentation (colourful) but the wing scales help to provide lift, and there are larger variations that provide effective armour. stomach ‘plumage’ is more similar to the original ‘fur’

#spore #spore 2008 #image #my art #my characters #char: sondetten #set: space placeholder #needed to take a break from art fight stuff which i won’t get finished before the end of the month but that’s ok #most of the revenges i have left are people i can reach on other social medias so i should be able to get them their art #anyway self indulgent oc hours for now :] sky and i are having fun #sonny my boy #they’re soooooo fucked up #dude was the paragon of their imperialist capitalist society and was forcibly molded into that role #theyre still not keen on war so they became a cutthroat businessman to get the empire what it wants with less blood shed #they also have still killed a lot of people though. directly and indirectly

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snackugaki · 1 year

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tmnt au (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, and they deserve some goddamn respite) - visiting for Lunar New Year 2; lny visit 1

tmnt au part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

tmnt au omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

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youngpettyqueen · 3 months

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Hi! So I feel selfish since I've already requested a fic from you, but since you posted that new prompt list, could you please do #10 from The Comforter list? I don't care who says it as long as they are saying it to Julian! ❤️

anon I love youuuu <333 never be shy about asking me for fics I will happily take 695876934 requests from you

so 10 from the comforter list is... "You're only going to make it worse by not resting." and I love that and I love it applied to Julian

I decided to spread the Miles/Keiko/Julian agenda with this one- hope that's alright! this is set sometime nebulously before Keiko's pregnancy with Kirayoshi, so sometime in s3 maybe?

anyways! please enjoy <3

It was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

The station's been dealing with an outbreak of Bajoran Red Fever. It's a nasty sickness, not fatal in most cases, but it can be pretty dangerous for younger children. It's also a pain in the ass to try to kick; the main symptoms being sky-high fever, dizziness and severe weakness, nausea, and some nasty joint pain. Luckily for the non-Bajoran occupants of DS9, it's a disease that really only affects Bajorans. There have only been a handful of non-Bajorans who have ever caught the diseases.

Unluckily, Julian is one of those non-Bajorans.

"How'd he even get it?" Miles asks, still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing, "I thought non-Bajoran cases were something like one in a million- that's what he was always saying, at least."

Nurse Jabara, wearing a face mask over her mouth and nose, gives a tired shrug as she rubs her temple. "The odds were slim, but not impossible. If I had to guess, I'd say the constant, repeated exposure on top of not nearly enough rest probably did it," She pinches the bridge of her nose, grimacing like she has a headache, "Whatever the case, he has it."

Keiko looks up from where she's checking the medkit Jabara gave her. "You said he fainted, right?" She asks. Jabara nods, so she follows up, "Did he hurt himself? Do we have to worry about, I don't know, a concussion? Anything like that?"

"No," Jabara confirms, and Keiko breathes a sigh of relief, "Lucky for him, Nurse T'Strei has great reflexes, and caught him before he fell. Speaking of which, she's probably not having a great time trying to keep him in bed," She gives Miles a look that is so, so very tired, "We've had patients coming in all morning. You can imagine how he's taking being laid up."

"Say no more," Miles doesn't need to imagine- he knows Julian will be about beside himself, "We'll take him off your hands. You said those shots you gave us will protect us from the fever?" He checks.

"You're as close to immune as you can be," Jabara nods, "There's one in there for Molly, too, just in case you can't keep her away from him. Believe me, asking your family to do this wasn't my first choice, but we aren't exactly blessed with options," She sighs, "Everybody who is resistant to the fever is busy working overtime to make up for everybody who's down with it, and I can't put him with anybody who's susceptible to infection. Commander Dax tried to insist, but joined Trill can contract the fever, and it could be deadly to her and the symbiont, and-"

"Jabara," Keiko steps in, places a gentle hand on the nurse's arm to stop her rambling, "It's ok. We'll take care of him." She reassures her.

Jabara pauses. Takes a deep breath. "Thank you," She breathes, "It's been... certainly one of the longer mornings of my career. Let me take you to him before T'Strei decides to sedate him." She says.

"If she hasn't already." Miles cracks, which earns him a nudge in the ribs from Keiko.

They follow after Jabara as she leads them further into the infirmary. It's pretty busy, mostly full of Bajorans, and all of them are masked up. The only people not masked up are non-Bajorans, though Miles notices that a few of the human staff are wearing masks. Probably since their human Chief Medical Officer went and got himself infected.

Speaking of the devil, it doesn't take long to find him. They just have to follow the sound of the arguing.

"This is hardly necessary."

"You are not presently fit to deem what is necessary."

Jabara stops, and gestures for them to go ahead into a separate area. Miles and Keiko both nod to her, and continue on.

Miles has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the scene they walk into. Because, sure, he's worried about Julian. Of course he is. But it's also very funny to see Julian lying on a biobed, with T'Strei sitting beside him and effortlessly keeping him pinned down to said bed with one hand on his chest.

"I have patients," Julian is insisting, even though he looks half-dead himself, "I have to finish my morning rounds, and then I need to-"

"If you can push me off," T'Strei cuts in, sounding like she's said this a million times over, "Then you can go."

"That is so not fair." Julian pouts.

Miles decides now is the moment to clear his throat and announce his presence. Both Julian and T'Strei look over at him, though he directs his attention to Julian. "Julian," He says, crossing his arms over his chest, "Are you disobeying doctor's orders?"

"Yes." T'Strei replies flatly.

"I'm the doctor," Julian huffs, indignant, "I give the orders."

"Which you are not following," T'Strei points out. She looks at Miles, "I assume you both are here to collect him?" She asks.

Keiko steps closer. "We are," She confirms. She's got a much more gentle touch than T'Strei and Miles do, bless her, as she goes and puts a gentle hand on Julian's cheek, "Nurse Jabara called us. How are you feeling?" She asks.

It's like a magic trick- Miles watches as all the defiance drains right out of Julian's expression, melted away by the simple touch of Keiko's hand. With all his defiance goes all his energy, and all the colour in his face. God, he looks awful- pale under his skin, and his eyes too-bright with fever.

"I'm alright," Julian tells Keiko, in a raspy voice that's anything but alright, "Honestly, Keiko, you didn't need to come."

Miles and T'Strei exchange a can you believe this bullshit look.

"Liar," Keiko accuses gently. She brings her hand up to his forehead, presses the backs of her knuckles against his pale skin, "You're burning up, Julian. You're not well. You need rest." She insists.

"Which is exactly what you're gonna get," Miles puts in, stepping over to join Keiko at Julian's bedside, "You're comin' home with us. That way, we can keep an eye on you. Make sure you actually get some rest, which we all know you're not gonna be gettin' in here." He explains.

"Oh, I- I couldn't ask you to do that," Julian says, looking as pathetic as a puppy in the rain, "I could get you sick, and what about Molly? I couldn't-"

"We got our shots done," Miles interrupts, "And we have one for Molly, too. So, no arguing," He looks up at T'Strei, "We can take him from here, Lieutenant. We'll get him outta your hair."

"Human expression." Julian says quietly, as T'Strei frowns at the statement. Then she nods, and takes her hand away, stepping back to let Miles and Keiko each grab an arm and gently ease Julian up into a sitting position.

"Thank you, Chief," T'Strei bids, "Mrs. O'Brien," She nods to Keiko, "If he gives you any trouble, do not hesitate to call. I can be available for assistance very quickly." She gives Julian a pointed look as she says that last part.

"I'm sure we can handle him," Keiko says as they get Julian off the biobed and onto wobbly legs. Miles is inclined to agree with her, considering Julian's already leaning heavily into his shoulder, the act of standing up apparently a significant drain on his energy, "C'mon, Julian, let's get you home. I've got everything you need right here." She shows him the medkit.

"Computer," Miles summons, seeing no point in dragging Julian through the long walk, "Three to transport to Chief O'Brien's quarters. Energize."

Miles wraps his arm tight around Julian's waist to hold him upright through the transport. One second they're in the infirmary, the next they're in the living room. Julian sways slightly, wobbling, and Keiko puts a hand on his chest to help steady him.

"Easy does it, Julian," She murmurs, starting to guide him towards the couch, "You poor thing, what made you think you could work like this? You're barely standing." She admonishes, her voice laced with concern.

Julian doesn't answer until they get him sitting down. He doesn't so much lean back as he does fall back against the cushions, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "I had patients," He mumbles, blinking a few times- dizzy, probably, "I couldn't just leave them."

Miles takes a seat beside him. Keiko does the same thing on his other side. "You've got a perfectly competent medical staff who are more than capable of runnin' the ship while you're away," He points out, "How long have you been sick? Honestly. Cause somehow I doubt this started today." He hasn't actually seen Julian in days. Their usual holosuite date got cancelled due to the outbreak, so he hasn't been able to keep an eye on him.

Julian frowns, squinting as he thinks. "I don't know," He replies, and he sounds like he means it, "Maybe a couple days ago. It's... hard to keep track." He admits.

Keiko gently rubs her hand up and down his arm. "Julian," She says, in that soft voice of hers that could melt ice, "When was the last time you slept?" She asks.

There's the million dollar question. That's always the first thing Julian starts to go without- sleep. Like he thinks he's superhuman, and can just keep on going without it. Miles has known him to go days at a time without a wink of shuteye. He wouldn't be surprised if this is one of those times.

Julian looks at Keiko. "I don't know," He tells her, his voice very quiet, "I... I honestly don't know."

Even Miles can't keep up his usual attitude when Julian's like this. He sounds so goddamn tired and he looks even worse, with those big doe eyes of his all sad and pathetic.

"It's alright, Julian," He finds himself saying, a whole lot softer than he usually is, "Molly's got a big party all day, she won't be back till tomorrow. So you'll have plenty of time to catch up on your sleep here." He gives his hand a reassuring pat.

"You're only going to make it worse by not resting," Keiko adds, bringing her hand up to his cheek, "I know resting doesn't come easy to you, but promise me you'll at least try, ok?" She rubs her thumb affectionately over his cheekbone, "Promise me you'll let us take care of you?" She implores him.

Miles knows this game of Keiko's well. Nobody is immune to it. He's over here melting, and he's not even her target. Sure enough, Julian is cracking a smile. A small one, weak and watery, but a smile nonetheless.

"That's cheating," He accuses, his voice gone soft, "You know I can't say no when you do that."

Keiko gives him a smile of her own, a smile that could rival a sunrise. "That's exactly why I do it." She teases. Then she leans in, and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

If Julian's face wasn't already flushed with fever, he's certainly blushing now, his cheeks going deep cherry red. "Miles." He says.

"Yeah?" Miles asks.

"I'm running away with your wife." Julian informs him, which makes Keiko snort and laugh.

"Not without me, you're not," Miles chuckles, giving Julian a playful nudge, careful to keep it light so he doesn't accidentally knock him over, "You can try that once you're all better. Until then, I'm not lettin' you outta my sight till you're better, ya hear?"

Julian looks over at him, still blushing, still smiling. "Loud and clear," He hums, "Do you have a kiss to go with that statement, or do I have to ask Keiko for another?"

Miles rolls his eyes. Keiko giggles. "At least you can still be obnoxious," He huffs. Even so, he does lean in and give Julian a quick peck on the temple, "There. Only cause you're sick." He tells him.

Julian's smile broadens into something resembling a grin. "You love me." He teases.

"Yes," Keiko leans in, gives Julian another kiss, this one landing high on his cheekbone, "We love you. And because we love you, we're going to take care of you," She gives Julian's shoulder a pat, "So you just lay back, and let us do the worrying for once, alright?"

Julian looks between them. And it's a subtle shift, but that mischievous grin softens, and turns into something much more affectionate and sincere. "I love you, too." He says to both of them, all sap and sweetness.

"Yeah, you're alright." Miles says, which gets him a laugh from Julian and an indignant swat from Keiko. What can he say, he's never been the best with all this sappy stuff.

Besides, they both know how he feels. He doesn't have to say it. He's never had to say it. They just know.

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thecatspasta · 11 months

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Does. Does anyone want a Monster Jon? Do you want a monster jon? Reblog if you want a monster jon. I will create more monster jon if you reblog saying you want a monster jon.

All his marks are very visible you just gotta figure them out (PLEASE PUT YOUR THEORIES FOR WHAT EACH MARK IS. OR ASK I WANT TO EXPLAIN THEM SO BAD)

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racingliners · 9 months

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@f1blrcreatorsfest week 3: music artist inspired

Alex Albon x Chasing Lights - The Saturdays

#f1blrcreatorsfest23 #Formula 1 #Alexander Albon #f1 edit #my edit #whew I'm finally done for this week #don't ask me how many iterations this third edit has gone through I've completely lost count #but I am happy with it in the end thankfully #the hardest part was coming up with a pretend tracklist ngl #I have a lot of sentimental attachments towards the Chasing Lights album bc my Step-Dad bought for me as a gift #and the black and white with splashes of bright colour very quickly became my favourite editing style #so yeah this is a very self indulgent thing but if people like it then yay!#also I don't think I've ever made an Alex edit which big shame on me

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canarydarity · 1 year

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Hard to tell how indicative the bones on the floor are of anything about the catacombs themselves being how, every few minutes, Pix kills another skeleton adding to the collection. He swipes his sword through the one before him, and it collapses so readily into a pile of bone—like it was made to, like it was just waiting on his sword—that he has to wonder, not for the first time, what was holding it together to begin with. The bones rattle and clatter against those already littered around, and Pix sighs at the further disturbance to the scene as it was when he had entered; accounting for the damage likely done by mobs was going to make this hell to study.

He grabs another torch and sets it inside one of the empty sconces that still adorn the walls, readjusts his grip on his sword—he can hear more lingering around the next corner; the low hiss that means a spider is near, the groan or two of a zombie.

Pix picks up a chunk of cobble from the ground and tosses it down the hall, waits. Sure enough, out scuttles a spider. He disposes of it quickly enough, but it seems he’ll have to venture down the dark hall to goad the zombies. He glances at the clock he placed in his hotbar before embarking on this mission (it’s hard to tell how much time passes underground—something he learned quickly in his line of work). There’s still a good amount of daylight left, and he wants the catacombs cleared; he has other projects he has to move on to, things he needs to finish; he’ll just get through a few more halls—it won’t be an issue, surely.

But the new corner he rounds remains dark even as he places a torch behind him to mark the way back. The groans can still be heard, but a zombie is yet to lumber his way, and so he has to wonder what's beyond his admittedly limited sight. Pix shuffles another foot or so forward, a torch in his non-dominant hand now as well, hoping for light, for vision. The research part of him—the logical academic—knows that it shouldn't still be this dark with the torches placed behind him nor the one in his hand, and that part is so much louder and more important than the one that knows this means something is wrong, the part that says turn around.

The torch is lit, he can feel the heat of the flame as he observes it flicker in and out but cast no shadow on the wall behind—a wall Pix can’t even see but knows is there all the same. The circle of light provided extends no further than an inch or two out from the flame itself—comparable more to that of a birthday candle than a lit hand torch. If he hadn’t been staring directly at it, he would’ve assumed the fire snuffed out.

He feels his eye twitch and his brows furrow. Academia liked concrete answers, things that could be explained and reasoned away—unequivocal proof. But Pix had always had a soft spot for the inexplicable, the ineffable. It was nice when he studied something and found an answer, it was riveting when he didn’t. How much more exciting to study it again and again, a riddle that begged not to be solved. (How much sweeter the prize if he were the one to figure it out in the end).

His interest was piqued. He could feel it, the way his attention focused and his surroundings blurred and left him; his body on standby, his sword hand lowered almost subconsciously.

In other words, it was entirely his own fault when the zombie grabbed him. Panic is never a good thing to welcome into a fight, but it likes to show up uninvited anyway. Pix's entire career revolves around studying human behavior, about how human nature cannot be fought against though it oft leads us to our own downfall and ruin. He finds it uncanny when he's reminded that this is a phenomenon from which he is not exempt.

In haste, he elbows the zombie behind him and turns, back now to the darkness—the one not even his torch could dent. It’s an ugly bugger, eyes soft and misshapen from decay and skin so leathery it’s as if it's been treated and is ready for use as a saddle or armor. Logic replaced by horror, before he can run it through it advances, arms out, and Pix drops his sword to reach back, holding it at arm's length itself; their arms interlocked, pose not unlike meeting an old friend again for the first time in a while. His hands grip the woven fabric of what's left of its shirt, too old and worn to be from any time close to recent, and, despite the very real danger, his mind takes the time to process the period-accurate fabric, the hand-stitched design. He blanches again as he looks into its horrible milky eyes—this zombie was from the capital.

Not sentient enough to know why it’s not actually getting any closer to Pixlriffs, the zombie makes a noise that sounds frighteningly human in its frustration and steps forward, and in his distraction, Pix lets it. The push seems to make his brain function yet again, and he shoves the zombie backward a good few paces away, but the momentum sends him stepping back himself, and his foot finds not purchase but, instead, the disturbing lack of solid ground, and with nothing left to do, he falls.

He hits the ground with a thump and a crack and a lot of other sounds he would rather not describe as he feels they were likely very undignified. Winded but, it appears, still in one piece, he grabs another torch and strikes it against the wall, holding it up above him when it lights and shines this time as torches normally do. He buries the part of himself that is disappointed at this—the part that wants to panic and complain finally louder, now, than the part that says hmm.

He didn’t fall too far, it seems. Now that the torch is lit he can see the gap he’d fallen through, just under a dozen feet or so above where he lays. It's obvious even looking from below how the stone floor had crumbled away, taking maybe one or two hits too many over time from overcrowded mobs or shifts in terrain or pressure aboveground. He tilts his head back but sees only another dead end behind him, and ahead looks like a further, deeper hall of the tomb he hadn’t uncovered yet, though the path is obstructed by debris from above; a net of spiderweb blankets the pile of stone and dirt, but no spider seems to be left guarding the web.

His friend above seems to have lost interest now that he’s fallen out of sight, and its moans and groans get further away by the second.

No immediate threat, Pix lets his head fall back onto the ground and takes a breath. He knew the crypt would be full of mobs, he knew it’d be hard, but still…

No, it’s worth it. It will be worth it. He has a job to do.

At least he isn’t defenseless—it’s more than he can say for the dungeons. Not a weapon to his name, fists wrapped in tape so red you’d never believe it’d been white to begin with; knuckles so raw and scraped and beaten by the time he’d made it out that they’d scarred that way—permanent marks of the fighter he was, of the fighter he’d proved to be.

There was a fear there, too, at that very real and physical understanding of permanence. His studies proved expert in providing examples of what was permanent and what wasn’t, and where people weren’t, things were. He’d spent enough time studying what could be learned about a person by the things they left behind to begin to wonder if anyone at all would’ve remembered him if he’d died in those dungeons—not a singular weapon or item for him to leave behind and tell his story.

Pix stops wallowing. He sits up and reaches over his shoulder for his pick; he isn’t shocked to find that the shaft had snapped in two from the fall, it having been strapped to his back. He sighs, tossing it aside as useless. He’ll make another.

He takes the time to remind himself again that he knew it was going to be difficult, and that difficulty was no reason to not continue. But it didn’t just feel difficult it felt…inhibiting. Dissuading, deterring, impeding. It felt deliberate. It felt like, stay out; like, we don’t want you here; like, leave us to our rest.

(it wasn’t, it was something far more sinister. An idea he’d never thought to consider; like a torch was giving off too-little light in the hallway of a dark, long-forgotten crypt, he couldn’t see any farther than what was right in front of his own face. How cliche it’d be, in the end, when it came to pass—the academic too invested in their own research, too dismissive of the present danger posed until it consumed them. He’d have a moment to laugh about it later, when the dread had settled in and all options—or lack thereof—exhausted. While on the topic of permanence…

It was not go away that the tomb was saying, not a driving force out that was being enacted upon the archeologist, but a more frightening call of stay. A threatening but desperate find…become…join…

No, if it were trying to keep him out, why would it keep pushing him deeper? Add this to the list of things he’d realize too late.)

He stands and dusts himself off. The wall is thick and overgrown with glow lichen, and he grabs the nearest vines and tugs one, twice, three times before deciding it won't give and hoisting up. It takes a few minutes and a fair amount of huffing and puffing to get himself to the top and over the edge but he does it, collapsing on higher ground once again and taking a minute to slow his pulse. When he left the dungeons, he dove back into the studies he’d been missing and decided he’d had enough fighting to last a lifetime—this was not without consequence, he’s not nearly as in shape as he used to be.

His sword is still on the ground where he’d dropped it, so he reequips and readies himself to push his way back out; he’d have to make time to come back and clear the rest another day. He would be back, and he hoped he would be welcomed.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he says into the quiet blackness of the catacombs. He doesn't dare speak above a whisper, for there were still mobs around and his voice carried enough as it was, bouncing along the empty stone and quiet graves. “I'd like to tell your story.”

There's nothing to hear but for the scuttling of various creatures far off in the dark, the shrill whistle of stray wind through small openings and holes. He raises his voice only slightly, a bit bolder. “Don’t you want me to do that? Will—would you allow me to do that?”

Silence, and then—the rattle and clatter of a skeleton. It sounds like only one; he lit everything up pretty well on his way in, getting out should be easier. Striking another torch against the wall, Pix prepares to go. For a second, the light is brighter than it should be, its circle of light illuminating the hall completely, the hole he’d fallen into, the distance to the other side. He leans back to avoid the heat of the flame, and he sees it.

The other side of the cave-in leads not to another tunnel but to an alcove, and empty it is not. His torch, though many feet away, sheds light on the scene; the heavily wax-encrusted stone above a pile of used candles and burnt wicks, the coin and other offerings of gold overflowing from bowls and chalices and any other orifice they could be piled upon, and her.

He recognizes her immediately. The tapestry covers the majority of the wall, and though it's faded for certain, the lack of direct sunlight has done wonders at preserving what it could. The colors are familiar to his research, the subtle and light greens under warm oranges and yellows. He’s too far, he cannot see any detail; the background, what she's holding, her face—but he knows her. She’s their patron.

The skeleton wanders closer, its bones clicking and clacking down the hall. Pix swallows.

“I’ll return for you, I will.” It’s a promise. She’s holding a secret, he knows she is—he’s going to figure out what. Pix turns just in time to face the skeleton as it rounds the corner, and soon its bones join those on the floor, new and old alike.

His words still echo off the caverns and crevices of the catacombs after he's left and gone, and though not possible to have been heard by human ears, the crypt whispers back good.

~-~-~-~

Far below even the hole the archeologist had fallen in, leagues underneath the surface of the earth, buried perhaps the furthest underground of anything left behind from the ancient capital—so deeply you’d have to wonder if maybe it was done on purpose—the crown sits in a chest, waiting patiently to be discovered. It’s not a matter of if, but a nice decisive and quiet when. Eventually, the echo of the archeologists' words falls upon it where it sits, and slowly it begins to emit a soft glow. It says stay, it says find, it says become, it says join.

It says soon.

#me when i dont write anything for almost an entire month and then inexplicably come back with 2000 words of pixlriffs fanficiton #all of which is completely self-indulgent #if you couldn't tell by tags on my recent reblogs and by this hey im doing so bad about pix being fucking dead and all #the blind academic...to be so invested in your work that it consumes you...#to disregard danger for the sake of being so close to what you believe is an answer #he studied the past so hard that he became it #hahahaha.#good thing he enjoys his work #because now he can never leave.#okay sorry not to write a 2000 word fic and then also write like another 300 in the tags #but also its mY POST!! GET OFF MY LAWN!! IM ALLOWED TO DO THAT! WAH IM SAD!#last thing but i have so much more to say about pixs background being his weaponless playthrough of mc dungeons. so.#someone talk to me about this /please #i lied. new last thing. now that this is out of my head :) hey :) all my fic planning is done im gonna start writing sentinel species #worm writes #empires smp #empires smp fic #empires smp fanfic #pixlriffs #pixlriffs fic #empires season 2 #esmp season 2

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